


Kimyōna Mahō (Strange Magic)

by aegicheezu



Category: Onmyouji | The Yin-Yang Master (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fluff without Plot, Foreplay, Hand Jobs, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 08:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aegicheezu/pseuds/aegicheezu
Summary: Seimei and Hiromasa have been blessed with immortality – thanks to Seimei’s mother’s kitsune blood, and Lady Aone saving Hiromasa many years before. These days, the old order is gone; Prince Atsuhira, now grown into a wise man, has become Mikado. With his ascension ceremony poised to ring in a new era of continuing peaceful rule, he has tasked his beloved “Uncle Seimei” with ensuring the event goes smoothly.





	Kimyōna Mahō (Strange Magic)

**Author's Note:**

> this story takes place outside my "Sorcerer and the Court Noble" series, but some things are the same - Hiromasa is immortal (based off the events of the 1st film), the Mikado from the 1st film was replaced by his brother, and then it follows that Atsuhira (the baby from the 1st film) would succeed him.
> 
> thanks for reading!

The soft morning light of mid-June filtered into Seimei’s bed chamber through his half-closed papered doors, casting a sparkling golden film over everything. Though a familiar scene to both men, when they awoke in each other’s arms, bathed in summer’s golden light, they still counted themselves incredibly blessed. Today, it was Seimei who stirred first, long eyelashes fluttering awake and his eyes falling on the placid face of his lover, nestled in his protective embrace. He drew the still-sleeping Hiromasa in imperceptibly nearer, and breathed in the soft scent of wildflowers; Mitsumushi had recently begun blending her own perfumes, and had gifted Hiromasa with a bottle of perfume specially made from flowers from their garden. _How it suits you_ , he mused. Out of habit, Seimei began to run his fingers through Hiromasa’s loose long hair; at the familiar feeling, Hiromasa at last began to stir.

“Seimei,” he mumbled sleepily, looking up into his lover’s eyes. “Good morning,” he smiled, and kissed Seimei’s collarbone where he could reach as his lay in his arms. 

“Good morning, my beautiful court noble,” Seimei replied, pulling him closer still and upwards for a proper kiss good morning. “We will be expected at the palace soon.”

Hiromasa’s eyes slowly widened, and a smile grew across his lips as he remembered what today’s audience was about. “Is it upon us already? So soon?”

“Time flies when you are immortal, my love,” Seimei smiled.

“Indeed it does,” Hiromasa agreed.

 

*

 

The pair’s oxcart was filled with laughter; on the way to the palace, the men swapped stories that made their hearts ache with happiness – even though the pull of the years had begun to make themselves known, they looked back on the stories with love.

“Seimei, do you remember when we caught Atsuhira at your writing desk, ink spilled all over his little hands?” Hiromasa smiled, wiping a happy tear from his eye. “He was so sweet – ‘but, Uncle Seimei! I want to learn how to write spells just like you!’ – and you indulged him, so like you; even though you had to send away for a whole new desk, since he’d spilled all over it and ruined the wood.” He shot a loving gaze toward Seimei, who nodded, remembering.

"I’ll admit it," Seimei conceded, “I don’t love the palace or it’s stuffiness, but I have always held a special affection for that boy. After all,” he took Hiromasa’s hand. “Exorcising Doson’s demon from him as an infant was the cause that brought us together, all those years ago.”

Hiromasa smiled, knowing Seimei was right. He turned the other man’s hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing Seimei’s soft white skin. “I remember,” he replied.

 

*

 

The Mikado’s throne room was not a foreign place for neither Seimei nor Hiromasa; over the years, they had lost count of how many audiences they had held with the emperor. But this time was different; a new, young face greeted them – Prince Atsuhira sat on the dais, back straight, and clearly struggling to keep a straight face upon seeing his uncles enter.

He instinctively rose to his feet, and Seimei and Hiromasa approached the dais but remained a respectful distance away; after all, his attendants were about and they still had to maintain courtly custom – until Atsuhira himself stood and closed the space between them, and clapped a hand on both their shoulders. “Uncles!” he exclaimed, smile bright and baring his beautiful white teeth. “It feels like an age since I saw you last, and look, you’re still so handsome,” he teased, knowing full well why it was that neither man aged.

“Your highness,” Hiromasa beamed, meeting the young man’s gaze. “It does our hearts good to see you looking so healthy.” He could not resist a playful wink in the young man’s direction, earning him a smile.

Seimei nodded in agreement and cleared his throat to speak. “Has your highness prepared well for tomorrow?” he asked, taking in the sight of Atsuhira in his father’s kingly robes.

“Thoroughly,” Atsuhira replied, nodding. “But I still have many questions.” He glanced around the men and out through the half-opened papered door through to the garden. “Come outside and sit with me a while, uncles. We will have some peace out there by the water.”

“As you wish,” Hiromasa and Seimei bowed slightly and followed the young man through his chamber and outside.

The royal gardens were impeccably manicured; flowers in bloom along the lacquered wooden path, almost floating in the air. The pond trickled through the garden with meditative surety, playful fish bobbing in and out from under the smooth rocks, scales catching the June light and making the water sparkle like jewels. The men sat together on the raised platform, draped with Chinese brocade silks and pillows; after calling for sake to be brought, Atsuhira sighed. He bent his head in closer to where Seimei and Hiromasa sat, and they leaned in further. “Will you protect me… while I am emperor, uncle Seimei? Uncle Hiromasa?” he asked, voice suddenly childlike.

Seimei and Hiromasa looked at each other, and smiled. “We will always protect you,” Hiromasa replied. “Since you were born, we have been by your side ensuring your safety.”

At that, Atsuhira seemed to relax; he knew they were telling the truth. “I am glad,” he admitted, smiling at the men. “When my father and my maids were too busy for me, I could always count on the two of you.” An attendant returned with their sake, and Atsuhira made a great show of straightening his back and looking somberly ahead towards the middle distance, making Seimei and Hiromasa try – and fail – to stifle their amusement. _How like a child he still is_ , Hiromasa thought lovingly. _He’s grown up so very fast._ Seimei glanced at him, agreeing. When the attendant left them at last, Atsuhira cracked a smile. “I don’t want to rule like my father did,” he said after taking a sip. “I want to have more time for reading and exploring – you know how curious I was, as a little boy.”

“I remember well,” Seimei agreed. “I recall once, when you were no more than six or seven years old,” he set his cup down and affected a story-telling voice, straightening his back. “You had been taken ill, and had been calling for your uncle Seimei all day.” He glanced at Hiromasa. “Do you remember that?”

Hiromasa nodded. “I do,” he chimed in. “Your nursemaid tried everything to quiet you, but you kept insisting for Seimei and I to come and play with you. You were terribly inconsolable,” he laughed, refilling the men’s cups. “We were sent for quickly, and as soon as you set eyes on us, you stopped crying.” He smiled at Atsuhira. “Do you remember how we passed the time that day?”

“I do,” Atsuhira leaned back, hands on his knees. “You played with me for hours, and showed me how to command shikigami.” The prince smiled. “I wonder if I can still do it,” he tapped his chin, curious. 

“I confess, highness, it was I that made the paper gods move and dance about,” Seimei admitted, feigning guilt.

Laughter echoed through the royal gardens.

 

*

 

At last back in the quiet of their home, Hiromasa set about to one of his favourite activities; kneeling behind Seimei where he sat, he began to unpin and comb his long black hair. The cicadas still sang loudly even though the sun had by now gone down, and the June night air was heavy. Seimei closed his eyes as he began to relax under Hiromasa’s familiar touch, and he leaned in to the other man’s body.

“Atsuhira will be a good emperor,” Seimei said after a moment, tone contemplative. “I have no doubt.”

“He’s grown into a good man,” Hiromasa agreed, continuing to carefully pull his hands through Seimei’s long hair. “How considerate he is of us, too.” He sighed, remembering a conversation from earlier that day. 

 

_Atsuhira waved his attendants away so that he could have a private moment with Seimei and Hiromasa, and indicated that he wanted the men to sit closer to him. “Uncles, can I speak freely with you now?”_

_“Always, highness,” Hiromasa reassured him. “What is on your mind?”_

_Atsuhira waved away Hiromasa’s concern, and smiled. “I must tell you – I have always known how deeply you two love each other,” he spoke carefully, voice low in case an attendant remained by the door. He scanned Seimei and Hiromasa’s eyes; the men were surprised by how plainly he spoke, but did not seem bothered by his bluntness. Atsuhira continued, “I truly believe that it is the strength of your love that has kept the capital in such peace for so long.” His eyes softened, grown warm as he looked on at the men who practically raised him. “I will never allow anyone to separate you two.” He tapped his chin as if in thought, and grinned. “And woe betide anyone who tries to take my beloved uncles from the palace.”_

Seimei and Hiromasa knew that Atsuhira was of course referring to the Ministers of the Left and Right; old, callous men, grown jealous and secretive with desire for advancement. They had butted heads many times in the reign of Atsuhira’s father, and then his uncle; and in truth, both Seimei and Hiromasa had wondered about their standing in the court under Atsuhira’s fresh rule. Would the ministers orchestrate a power-grab and force them from the palace once and for all? But, hearing Atsuhira speak so lovingly about them made their hearts swell, and they could relax. Hiromasa sighed contentedly and pressed a kiss to the top of Seimei’s head. “I wonder how long Atsuhira has known about us, my love?”

“Who knows?” Seimei wondered aloud. “Though, after so many years by each other’s side, and both of us unmarried, I’m sure it’s an open secret among the other nobles by now.” Seimei turned and wrapped his arms around Hiromasa’s neck, kissed his cheek and nestled his head in his neck. “It does not matter, in the end,” he mused. “We will outlive them all, and time will go on.”

“Is there any way we can slow time, Seimei?” Hiromasa’s voice was low, and he looked into his lover’s eyes with a determined seriousness. “Just for you and I, alone together…?” he kissed him then, and Seimei knew what he meant.

“Kiss me like that again,” Seimei purred, teeth against Hiromasa’s neck, “and I will show you a spell that will freeze time between us so that we may bask in each other for as long as your body can hold out.”

“Seimei, do not tease me so,” Hiromasa whimpered breathlessly, snaking a hand beneath the folds of Seimei’s robe and tracing a line down his lover’s pale skin. “If I asked you to, I know you could shatter me completely…” he took hold of Seimei’s chin and kissed him forcefully, wringing a little moan from the other man. He cradled Seimei’s face in his hands and lay him down, straddling his hips. Kissing down Seimei’s cheek and neck, Hiromasa gently tugged open his robe at his chest and exposed the smooth skin, making Seimei shiver a little at the contact. Hiromasa felt the hardness growing in Seimei’s robes being pushed against his own, and he rolled his hips into Seimei’s.

“Hiromasa… Hiromasa…” Seimei reached up and slipped his hand beneath Hiromasa’s robe and stroked his thigh, fingers straying higher; practiced, exploring. “Make me cry out your name and shake the foundations of this house…” he gasped as Hiromasa took hold of his length then, and began to stroke. Hiromasa crawled down Seimei’s body and smirked to see how his legs shook in anticipation as he at last took him in his mouth. Seimei’s back arched instinctively and he scraped his nails against the tatami mat, hips rolling in time with Hiromasa’s tongue. Seimei clutched at Hiromasa’s hair, pulling desirously and begging him to take him deeper. Hiromasa knew that command well, and relaxed his throat for Seimei to thrust into at his will. Seimei’s thighs trembled, and Hiromasa knew his lover was close; he took him as deep as he could, and in a moment, he felt the familiar, salty liquid pour down his waiting throat. Gasping, Seimei pulled Hiromasa up towards him in a kiss, the tanned man’s lips still slick. Hiromasa clawed at Seimei’s back, slipping his robes from his shoulders and exposing more of his beautiful white skin.

“Will you cast a spell on me tonight, my magician?” Hiromasa growled against Seimei’s ear. “Cast a spell on me…” Seimei took a fistful of Hiromasa’s long black hair and exposed his neck, biting and sucking at the pretty tanned flesh.

The moon hung in the sky, observing.

 

*

 

Atsuhira’s ascension ceremony had gone perfectly – the June heat had broken the night before thanks to a summer rain, which the many court ladies and Atsuhira’s wives were grateful for. Throughout, Hiromasa found himself holding his breath; he was reminded again just how attached he truly was to the young man. He watched the young man take his vows and complete the ceremonial protections alongside Seimei, effectively sealing and blessing his throne, warding off evil spirits. The maiko performed their rituals, and the ministers looked on. Hiromasa wondered then – _how many of these ascension ceremonies will I live to see?_ He cocked his head in thought. _Seimei and I are eternal; so we will witness the rise and fall of many, many emperors. What happens when the old gods go to sleep? Will we still be needed?_

Seimei looked toward Hiromasa then, and smiled. _Of course we will still be needed, my love. We will always have a place in this world._

After the ceremony, Hiromasa and Seimei walked about the garden, away from the milling noblemen and the court ladies admiring the flowers. Walking close enough together that their sleeves rustled a little when they touched, the pair paused by the edge of the stream. “It was a beautiful ceremony,” Hiromasa smiled, watching the carp’s scales glimmer in the sunlight. “He will be a good emperor.”

“He will,” Seimei agreed, pausing to tilt his head upward and observe the clouds. “I am not a sentimental man, Hiromasa,” he began, to Hiromasa’s laughter. He shot him a playful eyeroll and gently elbowed him in the arm. “I am not,” he insisted, “but I confess, I am proud of him. I’m sure his father is, too.”

Hiromasa was touched; he knew that Seimei was far and away the more sentimental between the two of them – he didn’t show that side to just anyone, though; that was the difference. He gently bumped shoulders with the other man. “I’m sure he is.” The pair shared the quiet, and looked into each other’s eyes for a brief moment before a familiar voice interrupted them. 

“Uncle Hiromasa, uncle Seimei,” Atsuhira approached the men, the formal tone from a few hours prior completely gone. “Come and drink with me,” he ushered the men through the gardens and into his chamber; the pair was glad for the change of scenery, and were thankful they were able to forgo the formal speech and behaviours of the court at last.

“Your highness looked very much the part today,” Seimei complimented as he filled the young man’s cup. “Hiromasa and I were remarking earlier; how proud your father must surely be.”

Atsuhira smiled at the praise, and took the cup from Seimei. “Uncles, can I ask another favour?” he drank deeply and set the cup down again. “When it is just the two of us, without others from the court… won’t you please simply call me by my name?”

“Highness, that’s –” Hiromasa started, but the emperor’s hand raised in protest.

“Even my wives call me by my title,” he explained. “And I could always be myself with you two,” he sighed. “Please, grant me that.”

Seimei smiled and shook his head lovingly. “Alright, Atsuhira,” he agreed. “When we are alone, we will call you by your name.”

Atsuhira beamed. “Thank you, uncle Seimei,” he relaxed at that, and refilled the men’s cups himself.

“He never could say no to you,” Hiromasa grinned, a subtle jab at his lover. “Ever since you were a small child, you knew that Seimei would always give you what you asked for.”

“You have both spoiled me,” Atsuhira laughed. “Always telling me ancient stories and conjuring up little spirits for me to play with,” he sat back and sighed happily. “I grew up a very happy child, thanks to the both of you.”

Hiromasa and Seimei looked at each other knowingly. “Truthfully,” Hiromasa said after a moment, “I have always wanted a son. When you were little, and you would spend your weekends at Seimei’s house, scrolls splayed all over the floor as you pretended to read them, it felt like you were…” he paused, wondering if he should go on. He looked at the young man for a moment before continuing. “It felt like you were ours.” He smiled, suddenly bashful. He turned his empty sake cup in his hands. “You’ll always be that little boy, to us.”

“Oh, uncles,” Atsuhira was touched, and he shuffled closer to them on the tatami mat, resting a gentle hand on both men’s knees. “You were more my parents than my father and his wives ever were,” he held their gaze and continued, “I hope that you will stay by my side until I am old and grey.”

“It is our duty, and our pleasure,” Seimei replied, patting Atsuhira’s hand on his thigh. “You will make a fine emperor, my boy. We are both immeasurably proud of you.”

The cicadas sang in the distance.

 

*

 

The next day, Atsuhira sent for Seimei and Hiromasa again – he would send the men on a well-deserved vacation, but the official decree was that the men would go on a research expedition to Nagaoka for a month; they would be summoned to the palace and given an official order in front of the ministers so that suspicion would not be aroused, and talk of favouritism would be quashed.

After the official meeting, Seimei and Hiromasa walked with the emperor to the outdoor dais to enjoy the early evening sky. After having put away a few bottles of sake, Atsuhira felt playful. He sent his attendant away to retrieve some paper.

“Whatever for, highness?” Hiromasa asked, internally smirking at his use of formal voice – after all, they were not alone, and had to keep up appearances.

“I wonder,” Atsuhira sing-songed playfully, cheeks a rosy red from drink. “Would you teach me how to command a shikigami, for real this time?”

Seimei laughed. “We can certainly try, your highness,” he set his cup down and took the paper and knife from the attendant, who dutifully retreated as quickly as they had returned. He gave the emperor the paper and explained that he had to be the one to cut out the shape, otherwise the spell really would not work – “I promise, I won’t command it myself,” he teased. “So you must concentrate very hard.” Once the paper had been cut properly, Atsuhira set it down on the lacquered wood floor and awaited further instructions.

“Take the paper in one hand, and with your other, press your index and middle fingers to its head,” Seimei explained. “Now, repeat after me,” he waited until Atsuhira was ready, and smiled to see how hard the young man focused on the paper in his hands. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Atsuhira confirmed. “What do I say?”

Seimei cleared his throat. “O, vacant spirit, I give you life so that you may do my bidding,” he watched proudly as Atsuhira repeated his spell, and instructed him to set the paper doll back down on the floor in front of him.

“What happens now, uncle Seimei?” Atsuhira wondered.

“Now we wait,” Seimei replied, bending down a little more to observe the paper. Hiromasa and Atsuhira followed suit, curious.

For a moment, the paper did not move, and Atsuhira sighed. “I suppose it is just a childhood fantasy,” he acquiesced. “Still, thank you for indulging me.”

“Not so fast, highness,” Hiromasa held out a hand, giving the emperor pause. “Look,” he motioned with his chin toward the paper, the edges curling and flexing on their own. All three men seemed to have been struck mute; the paper figure stood on its paper legs, and bowed slightly to the emperor; it seemed to be awaiting instructions.

“Uncle…?” Atsuhira looked to Seimei. “This is not your doing, nor yours, Hiromasa?” the men shook their heads, in as much disbelief as the young man.

“Perhaps…” he cocked his head. “Perhaps some of our magic has rubbed off on you after all,” Hiromasa stroked his chin, thinking. “Is that not possible, Seimei?”

“Anything is possible,” Seimei blinked. “Magic is a strange thing.”

 

Laughter.


End file.
